Lean On Me
by Crimson Vixen
Summary: Ookiku Furikabutte or Oofuri. AbexMihashi. 'The bond between a catcher and a pitcher was built on trust; Abe hoped Mihashi knew a connection like that was carried outside the field as well.'


**A/N: **I took a short detour from my other fandom and my fic to write this one for a very dear friend of mine. Writing isn't something I'm totally proud of but sometimes it's all I can think to do for people. So here you go, dear **Kitten chan **XD

I wish Oofuri was more popular. I wrote this fic for three set reasons.

1. For my loverly **Kitten chan**

2. Abe x Mihashi are too adorable to resist.

3. I. Love. Baseball!!

This is my first Oofuri fic, so... yes.

**Warnings: **I usually have warnings but Abe and Mihashi are not really the type to bring out the kinda fics that _need_ warnings. Huh...

Oh but I AM suffering from some type of writer's block. So I'm not sure how good this thing is.

**Disclaimer: **If they were mine, they'd realize they're gay for each other.

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**Ookiku Furikabutte**

_a fiction by Crimson Vixen_

**Lean On Me**

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It wasn't like Mihashi at all. This, Abe was sure of.

He knew the skittish pitcher almost as good as he knew baseball itself, and something was definitely, certainly, _annoyingly _wrong. Not that tears gathering at the corner and bottom of the boy's eyes was something entirely new, nor was a shaking posture and lips pursed in concentration and nervousness. What struck Abe as odd were Mihashi's pitches.

He'd been pitching just fine until about an inning or so ago.

Even when Mihashi fell into those slumps in which he was lacking faith and buoyancy, his pitches were spot on and flawless, just so long as he paid attention to the signs that Abe gave to him. Being self conscious was just something that came with the package of having Mihashi as the teams Ace, but he wasn't _bad _with his pitchesHe was able to throw a ball at a pinpoint target and hit it every time – the best pitcher Abe had seen in a long time, if ever.

So today, Abe couldn't put his finger on it; on why the boy was pitching so…

The next ball came at him – a fastball – falling short and bouncing on the dirt before it even reached the plate. Abe scooped it up and tossed it back, practically cringing when the umpire called it.

"Ball! Walk to first!"

'_Awful', _Abe grinded his teeth from behind his protective mask. Another walk – that wasn't good. One more of those and the guy on third would be forced to walk home and they'd gain a point.

He locked eyes with Mihashi, just like he did before every pitch, to see if the boy was _aware _that the bases were now loaded. The slightly smaller player was chewing at his lower lip, brows knitted worriedly and eyes blinking away what Abe assumed to be more tears.

'_That kid's always messed up about something', _Abe thought as he held up his mitt to catch and made his sign. His features softened quickly though. In his fear of being hated or disliked, Mihashi often shoved his own troubles into the back of his mind. Concisely, Abe had to worry about him _for _him. 'W_hats got him so paranoid?'_

Although it was normal for Mihashi to over-think things and lose his composure over such thoughts, all that put aside Mihashi was a good pitcher, and with each passing game he stood a little taller, held his chin a bit higher. Focused on Abe a bit more intently.

But today his eyes were wondering; their Ace would stare into his glove for extended periods of time, seemed to be putting too much effort into his throws – looked exhausted and…

It didn't take Abe very long to understand that the tears in Mihashi's eyes were not that of frustration or worry, but of pain.

So when they hit the seventh inning stretch, and they were amazingly only behind by one point, Abe approached the boy, slinging a gentle arm over his shoulder and taking him away from the rest of the team. Mihashi's body shook and quivered with whatever he was trying to hold back; Abe was pretty sure the other player knew what was coming.

"What was going on out there?" Abe asked, looking a little aggravated but voice sounding anything but. He put a hand to Mihashi's forehead, and in turn, Mihashi nearly jumped out of his skin. "You feeling okay? You're not sick or anything, are you? If you are…"

"N-n-no. I'm feeling fine, Abe-kun. Just fine!" he tried to assure, waving a hand to dismiss the subject, but Abe wasn't convinced. Mihashi was about as good at lying as he was at holding back his emotions. That and the hand that Mihashi waved at him was his pitching hand, and he was in obvious pain when he moved it.

"Let me see," Abe demanded, not even waiting to be obeyed but reaching out and taking Mihashi's hand in his – and he'd done this so many times that it felt natural; their fingers were almost always tempted to lace and hold whenever they did – and took a good long look at it. He loosened his hold when Mihashi gasped a little, choking back a small sob and wiping at his eyes with the back of his other arm.

Mihashi's hand, surprisingly warm and soft save for his collection of calluses, was tender, swollen, and a little off in color. His fingers moved stiffly, if and when he dared to moved them at all, and there was an area of red and purple lining the back of his hand, right along his knuckles. Abe's face grew dark when he looked at Mihashi's watering eyes. In about a couple of seconds, the dam was going to break.

"Tell me what happened," Abe commanded softly, sliding his other hand up Mihashi's arm and under his sleeve to grasp at his shoulder, giving an encouraging squeeze. The bond between a catcher and a pitcher was built on trust; Abe hoped Mihashi knew a connection like that was carried outside the field as well. When his pitcher hiccupped and swallowed, sniffed and looked to the side, he tried again. "Mihashi."

"Abe… Abe-kun," Mihashi whimpered, voice clouded and muffled with emotion. His shoulders rose, his feet shuffled in the dirt, his head ducked so low his hat covered his face from view. He didn't pull his hand away, too content and too familiar with the way Abe always held it. "I… We're going to… to lose the game…" a short intake of air. "And.. nnngh! It's go – going to be all – all – all my f-fault!"

Abe shook his head, by now able to hear Mihashi clearly through all his sobbing and sniveling like instinct, moving his hand to the small of Mihashi's back and pulling the boy closer.

"Mihashi, just tell me."

A blush exploded and stretched over Mihashi's face like ink in water as the pitcher ducked his head again. This time, Abe swatted at Mihashi's hat and knocked it away so he had nowhere to hide. Mihashi could be a klutz at times but there was no way he was clumsy and stupid enough to damage himself like _this_. The only way something like that would happen was if…

"Who were they? Mihashi!"

"I'm sorry!" Mihashi finally exclaimed miserably, mouth locked in a horrible looking smile as he tried to suppress his snuffling. He clutched at Abe's uniform with his uninjured hand and buried his face into the soft material. It smelled of dirt and freshly cut grass, but he could still smell Abe's natural scent hidden within. "I'm so sorry, A-Abe-kun! So sorry! We're going to lose!"

'_Idiot', _Abe sighed inwardly. He pulled Mihashi away from him, – arms length – didn't want him to lose himself like this when there was a chance of saving him. "Forget about the game. That's not what I want to know."

Mihashi sniffled and took a shaky breath. Tried to compose himself. Met Abe's eyes warily, somehow soothed at how solid they looked right then.

"I… It – it was them," he said softly, barely nodding his head back towards the field. At the other team. "Th-they jumped me before the game and… and…"

He was cut off by his own tears and he tried to bury himself back in Abe's shirt but the catcher wouldn't allow him to hide. He was angry – so, so angry. It made sense that if a team wanted to win bad enough, Mihashi would be the obvious player to sabotage. Not only would it hinder their performance, but Mihashi would never say a word to anyone about it in fear of being hated or looked down upon.

They'd obviously overlooked Abe's connection to him.

"Mihashi. Go on. Tell me."

Feeling just as ashamed but much more effortless, Mihashi pulled himself closer to his catcher and rested his head on Abe's sturdy shoulder. Made it easier for him to talk with the contact.

"I… They grabbed me… Abe-kun they grabbed me and one… one of th-them put my hand…" his throbbing, sore hand was still in Abe's loose hold, and he felt Abe's fingers lightly wrap around it. "They slammed the door on it… o-over and over… Abe-kun…"

Abe's chest constricted a little more with every repetition of his name, and as soon as Mihashi had finished explaining, he told the other boy to hush. Then, he pulled them apart just enough to look at him, nose to nose.

"Why didn't you say anything? That's a stupid thing to do; play with that hand," he scolded, sensing the way Mihashi fidgeted at that tone of voice. He lifted the pitcher's hand to examine it once more. "You probably made it worse by playing with it up till now. There's a possibility that it'll get sprained. Maybe even fractured. You play with this hand and you could seriously injure yourself."

Mihashi's eyes started to water.

"I'm sorry… I… I didn't want to let the team down…"

"Mihashi…" Abe soothed, running a hand through Mihashi's unruly hair, unknowing as to why but loving how soft it felt. "Look, your intentions are good but… think about it. If you hurt yourself in this game, you won't be able to play future games. And that will only hurt us more in the end."

There was a long pause where Mihashi took the time to consider these words. Then, feeling stupid for not thinking about it all his own, his shoulders started to shake, but Abe took a hold of them to stop what he knew was coming.

"It's ok, Mihashi," he said, unsure why he felt the need to say his name so much. It just kind of rolled off the tongue. "No one is going to think any less of you. You're not just a catcher; you're a member of our team. Our friend. And to me, you're…"

Abe had to stop himself, control himself, let up on his slowly tightening grip on the other boy's hand. He hated seeing Mihashi like this, so blubbery and stubbornly so, needing to be talked down and suffering for the ignorance and stupidity of people who didn't even _matter_…

And to Abe's surprise, through Mihashi's nearly hysterical hiccupping and whining, his Ace was able to pick up on his last statement. Locked onto it.

"To Abe-kun, I'm…?" He wiped at his nose with his arm and looked to Abe with the biggest, most hope-filled, shimmering eyes Abe had ever made the mistake of looking at. And with such an optimistic face staring at him so intensely, Abe wasn't sure he had it in him to tell him to forget it. Didn't want to drive him back to tears or make the pitcher think something totally irrational.

As if just looking into Abe's weighty eyes was all he needed in the first place, Mihashi released what seemed to be the last of his sniffles, and the faintest hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his lips. Abe was trapped.

Desperate for just a little more time, he lifted Mihashi's hand in between them and lightly trailed a finger over the bruised knuckles. It was pretty nasty – he couldn't really understand how a person or team could stoop to such a level as to actually, physically harm another person in order to win. And to slam Mihashi's hand between two hard places wasn't just low, it was cruel, uncalled for, and Mihashi was undeserving. Abe was sure the pitcher thought he deserved it _somehow_, for some stupid reason Mihashi's mind conjured up. It drove the catcher up the wall and down again, to think that the smaller player would _have_ such logic.

"Abe-kun?"

"Mihashi, listen to me. You won't be letting anyone down if you sit this game out. You need to get this looked at."

"But Ab – "

"I want you to sit this one out. There aren't many innings left; Hanai can pitch the rest of the game," Abe repeated acutely, gesturing with his hand that he needed to sit down and stay put, and Mihashi bristled and hiccupped one more time, sealing his lips instantly to silence himself. "As my pitcher, listen to what I tell you."

Mihashi glanced off to the side, looking for some sort of counter but finding none. Abe hated it when pitchers shook their heads at his signs, and Abe hadn't let him down yet but… But wasn't this different?

He opened his mouth, unsure of what sound or word it was attempting to form, but Abe cut him off by gripping his arms firmly and taking a step closer – until their chests were touching.

"Does it hurt?"

"Uh! Umm… It, uh…" Mihashi's lips fumbled, face overcome with another blush. He pursed his lips, dimples blossoming at both corners. "Only when I move it…"

"Alright. We'll get some ice and… move it as little as possible. And Mihashi?"

The boy looked up at him, blinking owlishly. Abe was looking at him with an expression he'd yet to put a name to. He'd catch Abe wearing it between games and during practices, and if he paid enough attention, when Abe was throwing balls back at him from behind home plate. He never openly questioned it and often attempted to ignore it because he didn't want to turn it into an issue but now it was just…

It was just so hard not to notice it.

But Mihashi didn't have time to think about it any further; Abe had dared to close his eyes and lean forward to capture those adorably clumsy lips with his own, softly and slowly, testing the waters…

And when Mihashi shakily started kissing him back, hands jittering something terrible, Abe deepened it, kissing him passionately and carefully, as if going too fast or too hard would hurt the other boy.

Mihashi had stopped crying at any rate.

The pitcher felt fragile against him, and though Abe knew this wasn't necessarily the case, he didn't want to risk it. He didn't want to be too forceful, drag him into something he'd be too terrified to say otherwise, and besides… Slow felt nice. Mihashi not resisting and no longer shaking… felt nice. His inexperienced, clumsy but needy tongue probing and unharmed fingers clutching at him, pulling at him, his voice murmuring sloppily into his mouth… it felt wonderful.

When he pulled apart, he searched Mihashi's eyes for any sign of regret or alarm. There was none. In fact Mihashi was smiling softly, cheeks red and ears burning, lips thinning and hand still grasped around Abe's uniform.

"Abe-kun… They won't be mad at me?"

"No," Abe responded quickly, licking his lips to gather the rest of Mihashi's taste. "But if it eases the guilt any… I'll sit out too. Tajima can handle it."

"A-are you sure!?" Mihashi jumped, eyes wide and unsure, but Abe ran a hand through the pitchers hair to calm him down.

"I'm sure."

"And…" Mihashi's eyes jumped left and right and them back into Abe's dark eyes. "And Abe-kun isn't mad?"

Abe's eyes fell into heavy slits for a mere second before he let out a sigh and took Mihashi's hands in his. One glance at the catcher's face and Mihashi pinched his eyes shut and spouted an apology, which was muffled when Abe tugged him close and his face smashed into Abe's chest. It rumbled against Mihashi's cheek when he spoke.

"No."


End file.
